The 10 Firsts
by MistressOfRobins
Summary: Bart Allen has it bad, something he is far from used to, and the boy he's interested in is pretty much hopeless to try to impress. He needs guidance - at least a tiny bit of it - and he needs it now. Though, asking his big brother, Wally, for help may or may not have been a good idea. And then there's this journal with the list... [BartTim, BirdFlash, AU. 1 of 11 posted.]
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **These characters belongs to DC Comics.**_  
_**

**Rated: **MA (for later chapters).

**Pairing(s): **BartTim (Hummingbird), and WallyDick (BirdFlash).

**AN: **This fanfic is written for my twin (not biologically but we're still twins I tell you). She RPs the Bart Allen to my Tim Drake, and I love her very, very, very much. I hope she enjoys this. The story is going to be ten chapters long if we don't include this first chapter, which is more of a prologue actually. Please, please, review and tell me what you think. This is one of my better stories, and I hope you'll all enjoy it!

* * *

**The 10 Firsts**

* * *

**-Prologue-**

_Knock._

"Wally? You-inthere?"

_Knock. Knock._

"Wallyyyyy? Hey, Wally you in?"

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Okay, I'm comin' in anyway 'cause you've been sleepin' for like- EEEH-OH-UM!"

Bart Allen blushed deeply, big, light green eyes going over the scene displayed before him.

He heard Wally sigh as he raised his head from where it had been rested neatly against his pillow. His lips detached themselves hesitantly from _Dick Grayson's_, though his hand still lingered over the younger male's butt cheeks, and Bart could _see _him giving them one last squeeze as he kissed Dick one more time.

Then he let go and Dick lifted his leg to meet the other instead of straddling Wally's lap.

The dark haired man chuckled lightly as he cast a glance at Bart who was _still kind of blushing, yeah, _and he had good reason to thank you very much. The young boy fidgeted, shifted, averted his gaze and then looked up again; all movements fast._Very fast._ He swallowed thickly, his eyes now darting up to look at Wally, then Dick and then Wally again. How was he supposed to know this kind of stuff?

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to interrupt or anything I just-"

Dick Grayson let go of a light laugh, stepping fully off Wally's bed. He was half naked. No socks. No shirt. Just loose jeans and an upper body that Bart refused to think he was the only one admiring if he had the chance to. Dick was a retired acrobat, but it was - _obviously - _still a hobby_. _He gulped nervously, feeling Wally glaring him down from his spot on the bed.

The atmosphere was awkward - so awkward that Bart was having problems not turning completely and utterly red from the top of his head down to his toes - as Dick gathered his things. Once he was fully dressed, he leaned over and gave Wally yet another kiss and this time Bart was able to avert his gaze and instead look down at his a-bit-too-big-for-his-body-feet.

Judging by his cousin's light moan and sigh in content that had to be some kiss though.

"Later," Dick's smooth voice said and then he pecked Wally's forehead. As he passed Bart in the door he made sure to give his brown hair a good, affectionate ruffle.

Silence followed. Bart shifted again, glanced to his feet, and gulped as he twisted his hands together a little. He did that when he was nervous. Wally usually teased him for it, but he knew the redhead wasn't in a very playful mood right now.

"Dude; when I don't answer the knock it _means..."_

"That you're busy and I shouldn't come in - I _know, _but I really have to ask you something and he didn't leave his shoes in the hallway and I didn't know he was here I'm really, really sorry I really am... _really__."_

Wally sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck, sending Bart a look that clearly stated he still wasn't too pleased. He got out from his comfortable spot shortly after, and Bart placed himself patiently on the very edge of the queen sized bed, rocking back and forth, and trying to be as... _not _annoying as possible. He really hadn't meant to.___Really._

He watched as his redheaded cousin put on his own shirt. Luckily, Wally was also wearing jeans.

"It's okay. Dick had to go anyway; some charity event or something."

"Oh. I really didn't mean to you know that r-"

"I know, Bart. I know." He got a smile. Smiles were good. Wally wasn't that mad. "So, what's up? Hey, wait - did you do your homework?"

Bart huffed. "You know I finish it fast. Even the advanced stuff and this time it was so easy too. "

Right. Eidetic memory. One of the many reasons why Bart - who was 16 years old now - took advanced college classes in his second year of High School. To be honest, Wally had met up with the principal the moment Bart entered High School because she was interested in letting Bart skip a couple of grades. He was already far beyond the level of an average fifteen year old.

Wally had wanted to say yes; he really had, but he simply could not afford college for Bart this early on, even with his cousin helping out. There was, however, only so much a delivery boy at the Pizza Palace could contribute to their economy. Luckily for Wally, the number one billionaire of Gotham, Bruce Wayne, had singlehandedly-donated money to the "Advanced Students" program at Gotham Academy.

It had been a huge deal, and the offer was accepted with great enthusiasm by parents who needed extra time to save money for college, and at the same time they'd know it was possible to take classes that would challenge their precocious sons and daughters. True, they had to pay, but it was cheap compared to college, and in their household Bart got a hold of that money himself with his job at the Pizza Palace, plus some extra that Wally could put away for him later when he was finally done with High School.

After the death of Barry Allen and Iris West-Allen - their _parents_, though not Wally's biologically - it had just been the two of them, together, facing the world. True, they had Joan and Jay Garrick, but they were an old couple. It was only so much they could do for them in the situation they found themselves in three years ago.

Sometimes money was tight, but they were doing fine, and as long as they had each other, well, things would be okay. Joan and Jay had contributed during the times Wally was finishing his last two years of college.

"Soo, what did you need to talk about?" Wally asked absently. He had now pulled a shirt on as he placed himself on the chair by his desk. He twirled around, lazily chewing on one of his pens. It was a habit they both shared.

Bart opened his mouth to speak, but his voice kind of died in his throat. He wasn't sure how to talk to Wally about this, and for the first time in his life he was actually _thinking_ before speaking. It felt weird, but then again _he_ felt weird too, and thus the whole situation in itself was weird and uncomfortable. However, Bart's curiosity outdid the discomfort and embarrassment.

His hands were between his spread legs, so to Wally Bart looked like a cat. It made the redhead snort lightly as he sent his cousin—_brother_—a look. "Dude, are you gonna spill it or do I have to force it out of you or something?"

"I—uh…" Bart bit his lip. "… How do you know if you like someone? And I mean like_ really-really-__**really **_like them and they make you feel so _weird_ that it's kind of uncomfortable, _but_ it's also the best feeling _ever_ because when he—uhm _they_ talk to you it gets all bubbly and stuff—and _just uhm yeah_."

"…"

Bart scratched the back of his neck. "Does that make sense?"

For a moment Wally just looked at him with wide, green eyes - as if the situation wasn't already uncomfortable - before a wide smirk stretched over the redhead's lips, and then he leaned over the back of the chair, arms crossing atop of it. Wally always did that; he had this habit of straddling every chair he was sitting in.

Picture if you will.

"Dude, you've got it _bad_ for someone," Wally said, a small laugh emitting as he rolled the chair closer to Bart who was still kind of shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "And you didn't tell me before now? I'm _disappointed_!"

"I—I didn't _know_ I had it _bad_! I just—uhm, I eh." The brown haired teen grimaced and moved his gaze to his lap. Truthfully, Bart had been _guessing_ it had to be something like that, but being this interested in another person scared him. He'd been stamped as immature his entire life. Nobody had thought someone like _Bart Allen_ would ever fall for someone at _this age_. He simply wasn't the type to be romantically involved with anyone.

"I can't believe my little man is in love."

Bart sent Wally a look that clearly expressed how unimpressed he was. He audibly groaned when the redhead grabbed him and proceeded to giving him a good ol' noogie. One that Bart could not escape even if he tried.

The thing was, Wally had always been the strong, buff one whilst Bart was small and light on his feet. He would have felt better about being the fastest runner in his school if it hadn't been for the simple fact that Wally West had set his record back at Keystone High. Bart had been trying to beat it since he was a mere first year, and he _would._

Soon.

"Soooo…" Wally had finally let go of him and was grinning like a madman. It made him regret saying something in the first place.

Or, at least _slightly_.

"So what?" Bart asked, fidgeting lightly.

"What do you think, idiot! Who is she?"

The younger boy reached out to behind his head, scratched it and kept his eyes firmly on his feet. "It's uh—_not_ a girl, Wally."

Said redhead fell silent for a moment. It wasn't like Bart had been _nervous_ about telling Wally it was a guy he'd been having his eyes on for the last few months - gee, had it really been that long? - because _obviously_ Wally had personal experience with dating someone of the same gender himself. Yet, it felt weird talking about it.

Weird.

_Weird, weird, __**weird**_.

Wally grinned and once more reached out but this time to ruffle his cousin's hair despite Bart's protests. "Duh, I shouldn't have assumed that. Then let me rephrase - who is _he_? Do I know him?"

That was the problem.

Bart's huge ass _main problem_.

Because Wally knew pretty well who this was and Bart was starting to wonder if mentioning this whole situation to his big brother had been a horrible idea. He didn't want to cause any trouble, and especially _not_ between Wally and Dick.

Bart didn't always show it, but he truly was incredibly grateful for the fact that Wally had sacrificed so much for him, so that they could stay together. It had been hard getting custody over Bart when he was thirteen and Wally was twenty. Wally had gone through a lot of rough periods in his life, but currently he was _so happy_ and Bart _knew_ Dick was the main reason for that. He had never seen his cousin so invested in a relationship. When he was with Dick, Wally had this _way of acting_ that just radiated utter happiness and content.

And since _he_ was in love with Dick's—

Nope. Mentioning who he was crushing on was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.

"Umm, it's no one you know!" Bart blurted out, rubbing the back of his neck for the umpteenth time, his smile sheepish.

"Sure about that? 'Cause I think-"

"Nope! I'm one hundred percent sure you don't! But, em, if you have some _advice_…" Bart trailed off, blushed and placed his hands down in his lap. He really didn't like feeling this vulnerable, but Wally would help him… right?

Said big brother of his didn't seem entirely convinced that he liked a person he did _not_ know, but the redhead obviously wasn't going to pry any further seeing as he simply smirked. For a moment, Wally just studied him, and _again _Bart seriously contemplated whether it had been a good idea to approach Wally about this or not.

The redhead lightly tapped his chin, and the more minutes that passed the more Bart wondered he had to sneak out of here and maybe try to avoid Wally forever. Maybe. Possibly. Not that it would be _easy_ considering that they _lived_ together but-

"I _think_ I have something, lil' bro. Hold up."

The teen perked up, finding himself smiling sheepishly, but it was hopeful. Bart's feet tapped impatiently as Wally removed himself from the chair and started getting boxes from on top of his bookshelf. Light green eyes blinked confused as the redheaded man let go of a pleased "Found iiit!" when he had inspected the third box. He pulled up a black journal, or at least it looked like a journal.

It had stickers all over it. Spiderman stickers. Wally liked Spiderman.

"Wrote this the moment Dick and I started dating," he said with a triumphant grin. "Okay, maybe some of it was written down _before_ we- ehe, nevermind… It's gonna help you either way, little bro. I don't think I need to go into too much detail." Wally rubbed the back of his neck and stood up, his smile a bit bashful.

The thing was, Dick and Wally had actually known each other for a long time. They had both been Mathletes in different High Schools, and thus they had met at a huge Mathlete Competition in New York City when they were thirteen and fifteen years old.

Despite the long distance '_relationship_' they had formed they had been inseparable. Bart remembered waking up on several occasions due to Wally talking to the billionaire's son over Skype. During their hard periods where they barely made it with their budgets… well, Wally had only sounded happy when he could speak to Dick.

And then they had moved. Bart had gotten a scholarship letter in his mail one day, courtesy of Bruce Wayne himself. Bart and Wally hadn't spoken about it, but they both knew who had made it possible for them to move to Gotham City. One didn't get Gotham Academy scholarships out of nowhere. Unless, of course, your big brother had, somehow, become the best friend of the guy who was the son of the most powerful man in Gotham.

So in a way, they both had Dick Grayson to thank for their new life. Sure, they had only been living here for two years, but it already felt as if they'd made a new start. Bart had friends, Wally had a job, they managed all right, and they were _happy_.

But Bart… would be a _lot_ happier if he- Well, just for _once_ he just really, really, _really_ wanted something. Despite not having grown up with a lot of allowance, Bart had never felt he missed anything in his life. Except for his parents, but that was different. He and Wally had mourned his parents long after their deaths, and the hole in their hearts was still there.

It had just slowly started healing, but occasionally he would wake up a night where he climbed into Wally's bed. He was sixteen years old, but having a big brother felt safe those nights when he woke up with complete and utter emptiness in his chest. He wasn't ashamed of those trips to Wally's bed. The redhead never seemed to mind anyway. Even if he was older, Bart knew Wally needed it as much as he did.

Now, however, Bart wanted something - wanted it _badly_ - and if Wally could help him with it, he knew he could at least get _somewhere_.

Wally placed the journal with the Spiderman stickers in Bart's hands and first now the younger boy could make out a title scribbled in with a grey marker. "The 10 Firsts," Bart read, blinking confused. "What does_ that_ mean?"

"What it sounds like, blabbermouth," Wally said with a slight snicker, crossing his arms as he leaned against his desk. "When I… was _intereste_d in Dick, I scribbled down what made me feel like I was, well, one step _closer_ to us being where we are now, as a couple. I mean, we were dating before that list was complete, but it's… kind of like a _guideline_ to the kind of closeness Dick and I have now where I feel like I could easily get down on one knee and ask for his hand in marriage, ya know, if the time was right."

Bart blinked. And blinked again. And probably a couple of more times before he said: "I'm not going to prop-"

"No, no, dork!" Wally smacked him upside his head and Bart let go of an audible whine, followed by a far from pleased pout. He gained a slight eye roll, and Wally's finger poked his forehead "Dude, I'm not saying you're supposed to complete this list in a couple of weeks, or in _months_ or even a _year_ for that matter. But I want you to have it, and look over it. Mark off what you've accomplished and you'll have an idea of just how close you are to this wonder boy of yours."

"Uhm, okay-riiiight…" Reluctantly, Bart rose from his seat and was about to leave but Wally caught him before he could move by wrapping his arms around his little brother's shoulders and giving him a sloppy smooch to the temple, which made Bart grimace and struggle in his hold. "Ew, ew, Wally get those lips off- EWWW!"

The redhead snickered and said with a smirk: "Dude, you're growing up, and I'm your big bro. That means, that I need to give you some affection as long as I can before you go all macho man on me. By the way…" Wally let go and stepped back, chuckling as he headed for the bathroom linked to his own bedroom. "… that list is not PG rated."

Bart looked after him, confused for one second, before he glanced down at the journal. Slowly, he opened the first page.

It was a table of contests.

The brown haired teenager found himself blushing brightly, light-green eyes scurrying over the handwritten words, and all he could really think was how the heck there could be _chapters_ for each title on the list. He bit his lip, and read it again.

_Chapter 1: First pick-up line that gains you a laugh (ergo: one that works)._

_Chapter 2: First hand holding (for more than a minute)._

_Chapter 3: First Date._

_Chapter 4: First kiss (on the lips; not cheek, not forehead, not nose - LIPS)._

_Chapter 5: First French Kiss (tongues must touch for more than ten seconds)._

_Chapter 6: First Make out Session (groping, touching, feeling up - the more the better)._

_Chapter 7: First time seeing each other naked (Boy's locker room doesn't count; you have to strip in front of each other)._

_Chapter 8: First handjob (Exactly what it says; and no, it can't be your own hand...)_

_Chapter 9: First blowjob._

_Chapter 10: First time doing "IT" (As in all the way)._

All right, all right. He had to just calm down a bit. At the bottom there was a note that said he couldn't expect this to work after a week, just like Wally had said. And that made sense. A lot of these spots on the list seemed to be something he should _think of_, but not _do_ yet, and that was fine; perfect.

All he had to do was pay some attention to this list and he would have an idea about just where the relationship he wanted was going.

Right?

It wasn't a failsafe plan, but… it was all he had.

They were just… guidelines.

And Bart _needed _some guidance if he was going to win the heart of Timothy Jackson Drake.


	2. Chapter: 1

**Disclaimer: **These characters belongs to DC Comics.**_  
_**

**Rated: **MA (for later chapters).

**Pairing(s): **BartTim (Hummingbird), and WallyDick (BirdFlash).

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**The 10 Firsts**

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**-o-**

Chapter 1: First pick-up line that gains you a laugh (ergo: one that works).

**-o-**

There were two kinds of people in this world: people who _liked_ Bart Allen and people who _didn't _like Bart Allen. Said teen had _never_ encountered someone who just thought he was 'okay'. It was either like or dislike. Adults mostly disliked him; people his own age mostly liked him. Teachers… well, the majority of them had to be put on the dislike list—probably because he always had problems keeping still in class—and the students were the opposite. He supposed that was because he made them laugh; he tried to keep out of people's way and he was overall friendly, after all.

So far he hadn't pissed anyone off during High School, which was kind of remarkable. Almost every guy in his class—not the _advanced students' class_, but the guys from his year—had gone through a bad experience with bullies during freshman year. Not him though.

The funny thing was that for the first time for as long as Bart could remember there was _one_ person who he could not put into either the 'dislike' or the 'like' category. Tim Drake—the guy who sat next to him during their advanced classes—was _impossible_ to read, and thus Bart had yet to figure out whether he liked him or not.

He still remembered the first time they'd met. Tim was a year older than him and seemed to try to be as anonymous as possible, so Bart hadn't exactly spoken to him before. However, as he'd mentioned, they were put next to each other in their new advanced classes, and Bart was a chatty person; he didn't hesitate to ask questions, and he supposed there was a _reason _Wally called him blabbermouth.

Maybe.

Tim had reached out his hand and silenced him by putting it over his mouth (he had started asking about his favourite cereal; _why interrupt that_?). He still remembered the first words the brunet had said to him.

"You know, by taking pauses in-between your questions you stand a better chance at getting answers."

Not very _romantic_, but—well, at least he still _remembered_ it.

After that Tim said Bart was only allowed to talk to him if he slowed down enough for him to actually have a chance at answering. At first, he slipped up a lot, but he soon noticed when Tim didn't even make an effort to _try _to listen to him, which changed when he slowed down. When he took a deep breath, and didn't let his eagerness and talkative nature take control.

That was three months ago.

By now, Bart thought he'd become quite good at talking to Tim. He was patient - well, patient by _his_ standards - and Tim even asked some questions himself. Yet, Tim also remained very private. His sentences were short, and his focus was purely on schoolwork, or his duties as the captain of the Chess Club and Debate Team at Gotham Academy.

Even so, despite how closed up Tim was, there were these moments where Bart managed to sit still in his presence. That was a huge thing for him; Bart didn't do still. He moved around, he joked, he teased, and got the rest of the class to laugh at his antics, but something changed when he sat next to Tim. Sometimes he just observed him when he wrote down notes, and did his school work. He tried absently to do his own tasks, but it was not always easy to do so. Not when Tim - who usually seemed stiff and _tense_ - actually visibly relaxed.

Also, Tim was pretty damn good looking.

Bart wondered when he started noticing that, but he had.

Tim was…

Honestly, Bart hadn't been able to describe it at first. Until he and Wally were stuck in traffic one day and he'd taken the opportunity to read through the only book they had in the car. A dictionary. Wally had originally meant to give it to Dick (because apparently as a child Dick had, as Wally liked to say, "crapped on the English language"), but he'd simply put it there and forgotten all about it. Bart thought it was stupid to forget a dictionary in the _car_, but Wally had just told him to shut up.

And then the redhead had started eating their takeout pizza while the commotion was going on, ending that conversation. Apparently some old lady died that day due to a car crash (thus the reason for their traffic problems). Her name was Florence.

_Anyway, _Bart had found a word that described Tim Drake perfectly. _Fascinating_. Tim Drake was simply _fascinating_.

"_Of great interest or attraction; enchanting, charming, captivating…"_

"_That's the third time you're reading that line, Bart."_

"… _Shut up; I can see the pepperoni in your mouth."_

Wally was gross when he ate pizza.

It didn't matter, however, that Bart felt this way towards Tim, because as far as he could tell the brunet saw him as nothing more than a classmate who he occasionally had to work with for assignments. Somehow they always ended up going through said studying hours in the library - Bart had proposed they could head to his home since Tim seemed to refuse to show him where _he _lived, but to no avail. He had yet to figure out what Tim had against studying together at either of their home.

Wally's list really didn't seem to be working either. For three weeks Bart had dropped lines directed at Tim, but all it had gained him was raised eyebrows and occasional questions if he was developing a fever. Then there was that one time where he'd leant casually against the shelves next to Tim in the library as he fetched a book, ready to drop his line, but by the time he said it Tim had moved away and in his place stood Cissie King-Jones.

She had given him a bloody nose.

How was he supposed to know that 'cherry' was just a fancy word for _hymen_?

… Tim didn't even have a cherry.

As another week dragged on Bart grew discouraged and kind of frustrated with his own lame behaviour. He was usually pretty sure of himself, but he continued to mess up his pick-up lines and half the time Tim seemed to be ignoring what he was doing, or he didn't seem to understand what Bart was hinting at. Maybe he was doing it wrong? Was Wally still using pick-up lines on Dick? If he did, then he had to watch because so far he'd had far from any luck at getting Tim to laugh.

Not that he had _ever_ seen him do it.

Tim was so quiet all the time; just getting a sincere and longer than two-inch _smile_ was a big deal. Sure, the girls in their advanced class seemed to find it alluring and mysterious, but that wasn't a significant trait that kept Bart interested. He had other intentions. He wanted to put together the puzzle that was Tim Drake; he wanted to unlock those doors that the brunet was putting around himself. No matter how difficult it was proving to be.

It was strange how different Tim seemed to be from his older brother. Bart had found out on his own accord that Tim Drake and Dick Grayson (even though they both had different last names) were family. _Adopted_ brothers. In a way, that was kind of like him and Wally. True, they were technically related, but their relationship surpassed that of cousins.

Not that Bart knew what Dick's relationship to Tim was. Dick hadn't talked much about him when Bart was around, though after several failed attempts to get closer to the older male he was starting to think that maybe enquiring about him would be a good idea. He just had to be subtle, or Dick - who was a real big _smartass_ - would be suspicious of his intentions.

… Maybe asking about Tim _wouldn't_ be such a good idea. Wally could put two and two together and then the whole 'must prevent Dick and Wally from finding out about Tim' thing would be out in the light. But what other choice did he have? It had nearly been a _month_. He couldn't even make the first chapter of Wally's _list_ happen.

And if he had to look up more pick-up lines online he was going to-

"Bart… you're shredding your pencil."

He snapped out of his frustrated thoughts, and pulled the pencil away from his mouth. Oh. Right. He turned to Tim, who again used one of those raised eyebrows at him, and smiled. "Right-uh, you were saying?"

"… I wasn't saying anything, but you're getting remains of your pencil all over my desk."

Oh crap. He sent Tim an apologetic look, which wasn't served anything but a passive one in return. His gaze absently fell on the nearly shredded pencil. Wait. Pencil. Pick-up line. _Thank you photographic memory_. He put up his charming face (or, uh, he tried to imitate _Wally's_ really, which he'd used to make fun of, but so far Wally was far ahead on this whole dating thing, so…) and leaned forward, looking at Tim with a wide smile.

"You know, Tim. Life without you would be like a broken pencil." Cue waving pencil. Wide grin, and maybe he was batting his eyelashes a bit more than what was necessary. "_Pointless_."

_Come on. Laughter._

_Just a_ _**little**__ one please?_

Tim took his pencil. Bart inwardly wailed.

"You need a new one."

The younger boy wanted to smack his head into the desk. He opened his mouth to _say_ something. Maybe beg for a little laugh or a _real smile_. Not one of those half-ass ones that he kept sending people who he didn't seem to _mind_. Bart had gotten one, but he knew they weren't real. They were fake, and Bart wanted to know _why_, but most importantly he wanted _a real one_.

For someone who was supposed to be a genius, Tim sure didn't catch on. It was driving him _insane_. Again, he opened his mouth to say something, but before he could the bell had announced lunchtime and he had a new pencil shoved in front of his line of vision. He blinked, and turned his eyes to Tim, the holder of the pen.

Okay, that sounded like a lame-ass fantasy novel title.

Cool.

"Wow, uh, thanks."

"Don't mention it." Tim shrugged casually and stood up. Bart looked after him, before his brain quickly caught up. Tim had given him his _pencil_. Did that count as something? Could he add to the list himself? _Default Chapter - gives you an object which indicates that he doesn't completely resent you_. He could ask Wally later, because it suddenly occurred to him that maybe this was his chance to sit down beside Tim at lunch.

One step at a time really wasn't his thing, but Bart wasn't a _quitter_ either.

Putting the pencil in his pencil case, and throwing his backpack over one shoulder Bart jogged out of the classroom. He already knew where Tim was sitting when he ate lunch. The brunet often sat alone. Not because he had to, per se, Bart knew Tim had _friends_ (he hoped to be one of them soon, at least), but somehow Tim always ended up getting away with being a loner and still maintain his spot on the social latter.

"CanIsitwithyou?"

His words came out rushed again, and judging by the way Tim raised an eyebrow at him he wasn't the only one who had noticed. He had expected to be forced to talk _slowly_ again, but instead the older boy directed to the free spot beside him. Bart beamed and plopped down beside him, trying to not stay _too_ close, but yet close enough to show that he was pretty disinterested in distance.

Tim had seemed to get used to him being rather close lately.

Did _that_ count for something?

Urgh, this stuff was hard. Bart wasn't good at reading Tim at all, and yet it made him even more determined, actually.

"Sooo, what are you eating?"

Tim opened his lunch box, revealing wraps of tortillas. It looked fancy, and Bart found himself blinking at the neat way it was placed around. Napkins, and each wrap in its own section of the lunch box itself. Really, who _made_ those kind of fancy things? Tim must've caught him staring, because again he raised an eyebrow at him and Bart smiled sheepishly.

"Chicken wraps with César dressing."

Bart found his mouth watering. Kind of like burritos. Just… uh, not. He glanced down at his own peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He had a lot of them, of course; their legendary appetite had yet to skip a generation, along with the speedy metabolism. "Cool. Who makes 'em? Do you guys have, like, uhm, a personal chef or something? I know your house is _crazy_ big. I saw it in this magazine-"

"You know that about eighty percent of what the press, no matter which kind, writes about my family is untrue, right?" There was a light bitterness in Tim's tone, and Bart shrunk back a little. Right. He was blabbering without thinking again. Bad Bart. He was about to apologize, but before he could Tim decided to surprise him. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean-" The brunet sighed and reached up to rub his temple. His look was apologetic. Bart detected more emotions than usual, which he thought was pretty darn good. "It's been a long week."

"Hey, hey, Tim; no worries!" The younger boy took another bite of his sandwich, subconsciously tapping his left foot to the ground. He did that often. The nurse had said that it could be a sign of stress to constantly tap either one of one's feet, but Bart had never felt particularly _stressed_ at all. He just liked to be in motion. "I shouldn't have talked without thinking; eh, I do that a _lot_, so sorry 'bout that. I mean, I talk too fast, and I talk too much, but you already know that, and it's sort of weird that I'm telling you this 'cause we've been classmates for months but I _sorta-kinda_ don't feel like I know you yet so I guess I'm just-"

Tim had poked his cheek. Bart froze. The brunet's lips tugged _slightly_, but it was enough to catch the other teen's attention. Tim barely had a _hint_ of a smile, and now it seemed like it was _forming to one_. A _not-fake-one_. But he got his hopes up too soon. It didn't stretch to the length he'd hoped for. It looked more like a curious half-smile at best.

"Uh, eh, Tim, whatchu doing?" He asked, laughing sheepishly.

"Found the off button," the older teen murmured simply, as he pulled back and finished his first wrap. He had three of them - Bart had counted - but that he really didn't pay attention to Tim _eating_, right now. He was far more shocked over the fact that _Tim the passive, don't-talk-to-me-unless-you-speak-slowly_ _Drake_ had almost, _kind of_, cracked a joke. And better yet, the teen was absently taking a lick of his fingers.

Whoever made the food had gone a little overboard with the César dressing.

Not that _Bart_ was complaining.

"You think I talk too much, huh?" Bart rubbed the back of his neck.

"Not too much. Too fast." Tim brought the second wrap to his lips, took a bite, chewed slowly - like a _gentleman_, Bart couldn't help but add inside his head - before he turned to look at Bart again. One thing had changed the last months that he had taken notice of. Tim's eyes were curious now. When they'd met they'd been dismissive and disinterested. Now they held _curiosity_. Bart would take whatever he could get, really. "You know, Bart; if you slowed down from time to time people would pay more attention to what you're saying."

"IIIIdon't know," the auburn haired teen murmured with a light smile. "I mean; half the time it's just mindless babbling, ya know? So by doing it fast I don't take up too much of people's _time_."

"Maybe you should talk to someone who has the time."

Bart felt something in him twitch.

"Do _you_?"

It was quiet. Tim chewed on his chicken wrap, staring ahead, and Bart felt something akin to downright fright and nausea dwell up in his chest. If Tim said 'no' now, it would be like saying he didn't have _time_ for him and then he could just kiss all hopes of getting closer to him goodbye. Bart didn't want to say goodbye yet. He'd barely _started_, and he knew he could make Tim like him. He just needed… _time_.

"Yes."

His heart skipped a beat. "So you wouldn't mind getting to know me better? Wouuuld you?" Bart's entire face lit up as he moved closer to Tim, looking up at him with big, green eyes. Wally had once said Bart's eyes could make puppy dogs look like hairless monkeys. Whatever _that_ meant, but he had learned to use them well ever since.

"I… suppose not." Tim cast his eyes away, and Bart wondered why he hadn't been more upfront _before_. Clearly, they could've had better conversations than which one of them was going to do which part of the few projects they'd been assigned together.

"_Crash_, cool; _awesome_." Bart caught himself from starting to blabber again and instead ate the remains of his sandwich in one mouthful. He chewed, feeling himself tremble a little in happiness. Tim wanted to get to _know him_, and that was all he needed. People usually liked him without him _trying_ when they got to know him better; imagine what could happen if he tried _really, really, really, __**really**_hard?

"Listen, Bart." Said teen raised his gaze and looked at Tim again. The brunet was suddenly serious. "I'm not an idiot."

Bart felt his face fall. "Ineverever- _thought_ you were I-"

"I know what you've been doing for the last weeks. As I said, I'm not stupid. I just chose to not respond to it, but I've been _thinking_, and- well, maybe I don't mind as much. Even if some of them are seriously weak and some even… not biologically accurate." Again, Tim's lips tugged. _Almost_. Almost a _smile_.

Bart felt himself go cold for a bit, and he waited for _something_. Probably Tim going from passive to outraged and telling him to fuck off, because a _billionaire's son wouldn't get together with a pizza delivery guy who, yeah, was a __**guy**_. But it never came.

Instead Tim said: "I'm guessing you learned the hard way that cherry means hymen."

Bart gaped.

And there it was _a smile_. He wasn't sure if Tim was even _aware_ that he was smiling - or that he was _gorgeous_ when he did - but Bart didn't want to interrupt the image. Sure, he probably looked like a gaping idiot, but Tim was _smiling_, and it was making his heart thumb a thousand times faster in his chest. Tim knew he had been _hitting on him_? And he didn't _mind_? And he was _fucking smile right here and now and __**Bart**__ was the cause_?

Talk about progress in one day.

More than he'd had in _weeks_.

"So-uhm, you don't-?"

"Mind? Strangely enough… no."

Bart's face was hurting due to his wide smile, but it fell when Tim's one faltered and dissolved into that half-thing again, that just wasn't real enough for Bart's taste. Then the brunet stood up, seemingly not going to finish the third wrap in his lunchbox. "Listen, Bart; I'm not…"

"_Don't_. Whatever you're going to say; don't," Bart said hurriedly as he too stood up. "Just, uhm…" Tim raised an eyebrow at him _again_, and he laughed nervously. "I'm like a novocaine; give me time, and I always work."

Tim rolled his eyes, but the half-smile was stretching _slightly_ higher up. "Better."

"Can you laugh… uh, please?"

It sounded like the lamest question in history, and Bart was about to take it back, but to his shock - and complete and utter _joy_ - that was exactly what Tim _did_. It wasn't long, or particularly loud or overly jolly or anything, but it was still a _laugh_. A slight laugh, and Tim was _smiling_ again. Why hadn't he just _talked to him like this before_?

"Maybe you're not so bad, Allen."

The bell rang again. Bart wanted to groan, because damn it all, he wanted to _enjoy this moment_. Tim was smiling and laughing, and it was making all these bubbly, cheesy butterflies have an orgy in there. Uhm, wait… that sounded wrong. _Anyway_, he wanted to preserve it all, and all too soon Tim's face was back to its normal, straight face.

"I'll see you around."

"Yes, uh, duh, yeah!"

He would deny it if anyone asked him, but the moment Tim was out of sight he ran. He didn't care that he was late for class, he just felt like running all the bubbly energy out, and the court further down was an excellent place to run around, before throwing himself against the grass, looking up at the warm, beaming sun.

_One of the pick-up lines had __**worked**__._

He could perform his first check off.

_Crash_.


End file.
